


Patriarch

by Lokifan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dom Sirius Black, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Power Imbalance, Sirius Black Lives, Spanking, Sub Draco Malfoy, enthusiastic but arguably not good consent, sixteen-year-old Draco, so not underage here but take note for your area, still everyone has a good time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:43:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10039109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokifan/pseuds/Lokifan
Summary: "One of the benefits of being disinherited by your family, Sirius would have thought, was never having to share a house with any of them again." Or Sirius is the head of the family and he's going to prove it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So in theory this is self-prompted; in actual fact it’s the third bonus fic I did last year, which I didn’t finish in time - aka 2016’s prompt #S17 submitted by llaeyro. Although sadly I didn't quite get it to OTK spanking.

One of the benefits of being disinherited by your family, Sirius would have thought, was never having to share a house with any of them again.

And after Narcissa spilling what Kreacher had told her, and Bellatrix's near-fatal attack at the Ministry, he _really_ hadn't expected ever to have to live under one roof with one of his poxy relatives ever again.

And yet here Draco Malfoy was. Blond like Narcissa and sneering like Lucius, arrogant and prejudiced and talking like he was the centre of the universe; every inch the pureblood scion. Sirius’ mother would have been so proud.

Dumbledore had been very insistent that there was good in the boy and he could be reached. Harry had been very insistent that he was the devil in human form. Sirius was currently leaning more towards Harry's side of things.

“Hey!” Sirius sprang up from the kitchen table and slapped at Draco's hands. “Leave it alone!”

Draco scowled, jerking his hands back towards his chest and away from the hopefully-unpoisoned soup. “Why? It’s not like you’re creating a culinary masterpiece. If you had a house-elf – ”

“I’m not having that little traitor Kreacher back.”

“You’re one to talk about traitors,” Draco muttered.

“Pardon?” Sirius glared. At his expression, Draco visibly wavered.

“Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”

They ate lunch in bad-tempered silence. Afterwards Draco fled upstairs once more. Sirius wondered what he did up there. Surely he couldn’t have that much homework from Hogwarts. Maybe he was wanking. He was a sixteen-year-old boy, after all.

Maybe he was just avoiding Sirius. He hadn’t wanted to come here either, after all. But with Lucius in prison, Narcissa had had to make quick decisions in order to keep Voldemort from taking advantage of any idiotic notions the boy might have about avenging his father, and Sirius had the blood bond with Draco that would shore up the house’s defences until Voldemort lost interest. He certainly would, Narcissa had said in her letter. _He is even less stable than Bella and shares her ability to obsessively focus on a few things._

 _Bitchy as ever,_ Sirius had written in his reply, pretending to himself that he hadn’t laughed.

Sirius wasn’t quite sure what Draco thought about Voldemort. He didn’t want to ask, because hexing his sixteen-year-old cousin would probably result in a telling-off from Dumbledore, and he was too old for that.

He would never be too old for a telling-off from Moony, though, as he discovered the next day.

“He’s a child, Sirius.”

“He’s not a child, he's sixteen. Almost of age, and definitely not the kid you had in your classes.”

“He’s certainly taller,” Remus said with a small smile, “but he doesn’t seem any less petulant.”

“See! Yes! He’s a brat. Just as rotten as the rest of my family, and hates me just as much as them too.”

“I know you’re frustrated to have him here, and that neither of you can leave, but don’t let that make you do something foolish. You were no picnic either at sixteen, as I’m sure you remember, and being at home has a way of making us regress – ”

“This isn’t my home,” Sirius snarled, and Remus fell silent.

“Well. All right. Just, I think the current strategy of mutual avoidance is one you should both stick to.”

“Fine by me,” said Sirius, taking a gulp of tea and wishing there was something stronger in it. “I just wish Dumbledore’d let me lock him in his room during Order meetings. He’s not trustworthy.”

Remus nodded. “At least it’s unlikely Fred and George will sell him anything that helps him listen in. And I find it hard to picture him as a spy; he’s bright, I seem to remember, and not a bad actor – did Harry tell you about his involvement in the Buckbeak affair? – but not much in the way of emotional control. And for all that he’s the image of his father, he does seem to have inherited the one Black trait that you all share.”

“Dashing good looks?”

Remus’ mouth twitched. “A tendency to go to extremes.”

Sirius certainly wasn’t going to prove him right by throwing something, so he sipped his tea instead and made a face. “This is swill.”

“Well, I don’t advise taking Kreacher back from the Hogwarts kitchens – he’s done quite enough damage.” Remus’ eyes darkened with remembered rage, like a stormcloud covering the sun. “Perhaps you could learn to cook in your confinement.”

“Perhaps you could bring me more chocolate instead of hoarding it all.”

“Perhaps you should eat more healthily at your advanced age.”

Sirius snorted and threw a pillow at him.

Damn, he’d thrown something after all.

***

Draco appeared for dinner that night, scowling and silent. He made a disgusted noise at his first bite, and Sirius’ jaw clenched.

It wasn’t good food, but he’d eaten much that was worse. Draco, sitting with that silent sneer, was the ghost of his whole family over a thousand meals he’d been glad to escape.

They finished their food and Draco headed for the door.

“Oi! Where d’you think you’re going?”

He stopped but didn’t turn around. “Away.”

“We’re living together, and I cooked. That means you can do the dishes. I’ll teach you the spell.”

Draco’s shoulders twitched. “You expect me to do the cleaning?”

“I’m hardly having you on hands and knees scrubbing the floors. You’re not a kid, so as long as you’re here you’re going to -- ”

Draco turned and sneered, his face inches away. Sirius abruptly realised that Draco’s pale eyes weren’t icy like Lucius’ after all; they were the same misty shade of grey as Sirius’ own. Like Regulus’ eyes.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Bloody hell, it’s not like you’re doing much else with your time. Just do the washing-up and then you can keep poking around the house or wanking or whatever else you do all day.”

Two spots of pink appeared on Draco’s pale cheeks. “You’re the convict. You do it.”

Sirius made an angry noise that made him sound like an enraged teakettle. Draco snorted, just making Sirius angrier. The old bully’s urge to put this nasty Slytherin in his place rose.

“You’re going to do what I say. Daddy’s in Azkaban, remember? I’m your guardian so you can bloody well -- ”

White to the lips, Draco stormed out. The slam of the kitchen door reverberated through the old house.

Sirius shook dust out of his hair and swore under his breath.

 

They successfully avoided each other for another week. (Sirius was doing the washing-up himself, pissed off but unwilling to have a knock-down drag-out over it.) He occasionally heard Draco moving around the house, but Sirius himself was a night owl and Draco seemed to be an early riser. They’d meet over lunch, but Draco always vanished again the moment the meal was over. Sirius even wondered if Draco was afraid of him sometimes: he seemed to be driven away from Sirius’ haunts, leaving the library as Sirius came up the stairs. But surely you wouldn’t give those kinds of poisonous looks to someone you were scared of. Draco showed no unwillingness to meet Sirius’ eyes: he glowered straight into them, apparently confident Sirius was no Legilimens.

Sirius rather wished Draco would speak to him sometimes; that he could see the pale eyes soften. He’d spent over a decade listening to the sounds of people beyond the four walls he could see, cut off from all human contact, surrounded by the fog and despair of the Dementors. And now he was trapped in this house where he’d spent a long, angry, lonely adolescence. However horrible Draco was, a bit of chitchat might not go amiss.

Truly, he had become his mother.

Sirius wished Buckbeak was still around, but he was sure the Hippogriff was happier in the deep Forest where Hagrid had taken him. Still, Sirius missed him: warm feathers and bright, intelligent eyes and a living creature who’d run away with him, been in it together with him.

He should really write to Moony.

The next evening found Sirius sitting in front of the library fire with a bottle of obnoxiously cheap whiskey, rather relishing the burn of it and the obnoxious label with a winking Veela on it in his family’s august library. Drinking something that felt counterfeit reminded him of being young. Of being here.

Stupid path to go down. Sirius left the library, pacing up and down narrow corridors, wandering the house like a ghost. He found himself sneaking, for no good reason but old habit.

There was a thud and a muffled swearword. Sirius looked up, scowling, to the next floor and Regulus’ room.

It took him a moment to remember that no one should be in there.

Sirius’ mind filled with white-hot rage. He didn’t remember going up the stairs; in a moment he was opening the bedroom door he hadn’t dared touch, opposite his on the second floor. He went in wand-out, already knowing it wasn’t an intruder.

Draco looked up from where he was kneeling on the floor, the contents of a trunk scattered around his thighs. His face dropped as he saw Sirius; he stood up as Sirius stormed forward with his wand out, backing up into a hulking black wardrobe. “I - ”

“How dare you? How dare you come in here? This room is off-limits to _everyone_ , do you understand me? To anyone!”

Sirius saw Draco’s hand grasp for a wand that had been confiscated, but the boy didn’t look apologetic. Draco swallowed and lifted his pointed chin and Sirius’ whole body was hot with rage. “I was just exploring! Leave me alone. No one told me anything, just said I couldn’t listen in on Order meetings.”

“Don’t give me that,” Sirius snarled. “Snivelling brat. This room was my brother’s - you bloody knew that, don’t tell me you didn’t know Regulus’ name. You’re rifling through his things - how dare you touch them, you - ”

He fell silent, trying to control his anger. Draco looked frightened now; he hadn’t seen Sirius truly angry before. But apparently he hadn’t learnt to hold his tongue; he was still trying to justify himself.

“He was my cousin! And he was - he was a Death Eater, right, and I just - I wanted to know - ”

“Wanted to know _what_?”

“I don’t know!” Draco tried storming past him but Sirius caught him by the shoulder and slammed him back against the wardrobe. “Stop it!” Draco said, voice fraying. “You can’t - you’re not my dad!”

“You’re fucking right I’m not your dad.”

Sirius grabbed Draco by the arm and dragged him away. Draco made a breathless sound, half-tripping over the belongings of Regulus’ he’d left strewn over the floor. Sirius hauled him out and across the hall into his own bedroom. He felt a fleeting moment of embarrassment - his bed was unmade, a few clothes on the floor. But rage carried him through it. 

He let go of Draco’s arm with a shove, sending him staggering forward a few paces. Draco was surprisingly easy to push around, and it sent savage satisfaction roaring through him. 

Draco turned, eyes flashing, spitting fury. “You’re mad! I wasn’t doing anything! You can’t - ”

“Yes I bloody well can. Head of the household, remember? You’ve been slinking around ignoring that, thinking you’ve got the run of the place and needn’t do any work, just like home.” Sirius was looming closer to Draco, his voice gone gravelly. “That’s not how Grimmauld Place works. You think _anyone_ gets what they want here?”

Draco looked up at him, and if there was fright in the grey eyes, it was drowned out by petulant defiance. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“No?” Sirius said, voice rising. “You’re doing what I fucking say, I’ll prove it.”

Sirius pulled Draco over to his bed and bent him over the footboard with a hand on the nape of his neck. Draco folded for him easily, made malleable by shock, and then Sirius landed him three good, hard smacks on the seat of his trousers. The sound reverberated round the room.

Even better was Draco’s small, stunned sound.

Sirius froze for a moment, blinking his long hair out of his eyes. But he couldn’t pause for long, or all the reasons this was a bad idea would come storming into his brain. And he couldn’t have that, not when he was going to make his bratty cousin pay with some well-deserved swats.

He flattened one hand over the small of Draco’s back, keeping him down. A surge of gleeful possessiveness went through him, surprising him. Then he delivered another slap.

Draco went rigid. “You - ”

Sirius went to town, delivering a flurry of smacks. This was no light or playful spanking; he was going to get out his frustrations, and teach Draco something about consequences. Maybe something about humiliation, too.

Pleasure spangled in Sirius’ chest as Draco went still and silent under his hand, letting himself be punished. He’d never imagined this, but now he wondered why he hadn’t fantasised about it since Draco had arrived: no sarcasm, no family sneer, just him arse-up and head down while Sirius taught him a lesson.

Soon the boy was huffing little breaths with each hit, but not crying out. Sirius wanted more. He groped for his wand, and a moment later Draco’s belt undid itself, his trousers dropping round his ankles. Draco made a sound of denial, shaking his head, beginning to stand. “What’re you - ”

He couldn’t be having that. Sirius jerked his wand again and Draco’s boxers fell after them. A sudden memory of James and Snape made Sirius smirk. Draco spoke again, more shrilly, but Sirius didn’t hear a word. He put a heavy hand on Draco’s head and pushed him back down. Draco struggled a little, but it was nothing serious. Nothing Sirius couldn’t ignore as he took in the sight of Draco’s arse, round and sweet and pink from punishment.

He had to fight back a strangled sound of his own. Dear Merlin.

Sirius delivered a slap. The feel of Draco’s bare, hot skin under his hand - watching his bum quiver with the hit - the mark left for a moment, Sirius’ handprint branded on his arse - Sirius sucked in a breath. Had this been what he’d wanted all along?

No, this wasn’t what it was about. He was punishing Draco for having the temerity to rifle through his dead brother’s belongings, to teach him obedience. 

“Are you sorry?”

“You’re mad!”

Sirius’ hand cracked down again and Draco made a strangled sound. It sounded more like shock than pain, and it was delicious. Sirius kept spanking him, warming Draco’s arse until it was reddened all over. He delivered some hefty slaps to the round underside of Draco’s arse and watched him dance from it. Sirius was hypnotised, watching the flesh quiver and listening to Draco’s huffing breaths as he tried to process the steady blows.

A few softer taps, just to calm him down again, and then a hard spank to each cheek. Draco _squealed_ and Sirius laughed, his voice gone low with lust.

He looked up for a moment then paused, stunned afresh by what had happened; how fast everything had taken this turn. Sirius took in the sight of Draco bent over the foot of his bed, clinging to the footboard, pale hair hanging round his face. At the brief pause, a shudder worked its way through Draco’s back. After a moment he looked up into Sirius’ eyes.

Sirius was caught in the pale gaze. Draco’s face was flushed from emotion, his eyes bright with tears, his lower lip reddened from being bitten as Draco had tried to hold back any sound. Merlin. It had been years since Sirius had wanted sex; that was another feeling the Dementors stole from you. But Draco was trembling and bent over his bed and that face - how could he not?

He had to get control of himself. Draco would be terrified if he caught sight of the bulge in Sirius’ jeans right now. Sirius stepped backwards, away from temptation, but his eyes were still glued to Draco’s form. Draco’s head dropped down wearily once more. He watched Draco’s back quiver. It was a deep shudder, working its way out of Draco’s body. 

“Hey, you’re all right,” Sirius said, hoping Draco couldn’t read the emotion in his voice. He was too young, surely; he might well have had sex by now, but that didn’t mean he’d understand this tone coming from a man twice his age. “It’s all right. You’re gonna listen to me now, yeah?”

“Yes.” Draco didn’t sound sweetly obedient; but his voice was uneven, and at least he was chastened enough to lie.

“Good.” Sirius had to hold himself back from rubbing Draco’s arse, soothing the burn.

“Come on then,” he said, when Draco still didn’t move. “It’s finished, I’ve… come on.” He took hold of Draco’s hunched shoulders, trying to help get him upright. Draco held himself stiff, resisting. “Draco, come on.” 

Sirius pulled harder, and Draco was forced upright, staggering a little from the trousers still round his ankles. He was flushing painfully, grabbing for his boxers. Sirius knew he should be looking away, not making this worse, but he couldn’t. He was transfixed.

Draco’s cock was beautiful, reddened and framed by white-blond fur, and unmistakably hard.

“Stop _staring_!”

“Sorry, sorry. Listen, it’s all right, it’s…”

“It’s not all right,” Draco said in near-hysterical tones, then paused. “You - you’re - ”

 _Oh shit._ “That’s not why I…”

“No,” Draco agreed. “It’s because I drive you mad.”

His hands stilled on the belt he’d been doing up, his body motionless, his eyes on Sirius’ crotch. Sirius, for his own part, couldn’t quite move. This had already been nuts, but the kind of nuts he might have got away with; harsh discipline was hardly unusual in the wizarding world. If Moony heard about this, he’d flay Sirius, and that was before Harry heard -

Draco stumbled forward, awkward as he held up his trousers, and kissed him. At the touch of Draco’s mouth on his, soft and seeking and shockingly warm, Sirius froze. He heard the belt hit the ground as Draco let his clothes fall. Draco’s lips worked against his, pleading, and then Draco slid his hands into Sirius’ wild black hair. 

That was it. Sirius clutched Draco’s back, drawing him in. He could hear Moony’s admonishing voice in his head, could imagine Harry’s appalled green eyes; but he’d been lonely for so long, and angry for even longer. And now he had this young man in his arms, pressing his body against Sirius’ and making pleased noises as Sirius mauled his mouth, and Draco _wanted_ him.

Draco kissed like he’d done everything else since he’d arrived at Grimmauld Place: fervent and overemotional and not letting inexperience stop him from making his presence felt. He was clinging close and kissing roughly, practically vibrating. Past the mind-blur of his own desire, Sirius suspected Draco would be different on another day. But now he was a bundle of emotion, fizzing desire Sirius could taste on his tongue, and overemotional shock evident in how Draco clawed for closeness. Dizzy from being spanked, and from the shock of realising how much he liked it.

Sirius smirked into the kiss, feeling Padfoot’s claws flex as he brushed a hand up Draco’s back under his shirt. He didn’t feel especially powerful, but there was a predator’s instinct he couldn’t deny reacting to this prey animal in his grip.

Sirius pushed Draco backwards and he went easily, toppling sideways onto the bed. Sirius barely paused to tug his shirt over his head and toe out of jeans and pants. There was glorious freedom in nakedness; he’d got so used to it as Padfoot. Still, it was even better seeing Draco big-eyed in nothing but the shirt that covered just enough of his nether regions to be enticing.

Sirius sprawled onto the bed next to Draco, spreading himself over it, and drew Draco down on top of him. Draco kissed him again, making sweet, urgent sounds and rubbing against him. Sirius groaned luxuriantly as Draco’s hands found their way into his hair again. He stroked up and down Draco’s slim back under the shirt, then reached down to grope that spanked arse. He scraped his nails over hot, soft skin and drew a shocked little cry.

Sirius couldn’t hold back a chuckle, enjoying himself hugely. He reached down and, after a little wriggling, managed to take hold of both their cocks, stroking the heads together. Draco shuddered, grabbing hold of the sheets each side of Sirius’ head. Sirius kept going, enjoying the sight, and before long he had Draco on hands and knees above him, trembling, teeth bared and eyes closed as he gave himself up to Sirius’ touch.

Another time he’d fuck him. Another time he’d take Draco slow and sweet. But they were both too worked up for that, and this was glorious: working them both together, cocks sliding together in a sweet shock of skin, and watching Draco come apart. 

Draco was vocal, moaning and whining his pleasure. Sirius enjoyed interrupting the sounds, or making them shift uncertainly as he played: toying with Draco’s balls, stroking him hard and fast, or delivering a sharp, unexpected spank to one arsecheek. At that last Draco gasped, eyes flying open. Sirius delivered his best filthy grin and in a moment Draco was shaking out his orgasm, filling Sirius’ bedroom with his cries.

The sight and feel and scent of Draco coming around him touched off Sirius’ own orgasm. It was intense; blinding, almost, and the aftershocks took a long time to work through him as Draco lay panting on top of him, hands in his hair.

Draco fell asleep almost immediately. _Of course,_ Sirius thought, perhaps unfairly; puppies played hard and then slept like the dead. Sirius very carefully adjusted himself, not wanting to wake him, and thought he might even doze off himself, early as it was for him.

He wanted to be alert when Draco woke. Draco might well work himself into a new little frenzy when he realised what they’d done, and that end happily for Sirius once more. If he gave some proper advice and training to his young cousin, as was only his duty.


End file.
